


You got that something

by olivebranchesandredwine



Series: I wanna hold your hand [6]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Canon Queer Relationship, Hand Jobs, Hands, Holding Hands, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 16:43:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20491985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olivebranchesandredwine/pseuds/olivebranchesandredwine
Summary: David loves Patrick’s hands. They’re so different from David’s religiously moisturized and manicured hands, but they’re perfect. Broad, thick, rough, callused. Patrick. David loves that he can read so much of the story of Patrick in his hands, loves that he has gotten the opportunity to know that story.





	You got that something

**Author's Note:**

> Did anyone think I could do this ficlet series without any smut? I think I probably could've gotten away with an M here, but I would rather err on the side of excess, so this is a really light E.

David loves Patrick’s hands. They’re so different from David’s religiously moisturized and manicured hands, but they’re perfect. Broad, thick, rough, callused. _Patrick. _David loves that he can read so much of the story of Patrick in his hands, loves that he has gotten the opportunity to _know _that story. He’s never been so intimately acquainted with the details of partner before; no one has ever let him close enough. But Patrick is different. And with Patrick, _David _is different. 

Take Patrick’s calluses, for instance. If you’d told past David he would someday find calluses sexy, he’d have given you a hollow-eyed sneer and walked away, because that sort of idiocy wouldn’t have merited his well-practiced fake laugh. But _Patrick’s _calluses? David could spend hours just tracing his own decidedly non-callused fingertips along them. Because they arePatrick’s, and they’re part of his story, the one that landed him in Schitt’s Creek. The story that brought him to David.

David loves everything about Patrick's hands. 

—

“We really need to do something about…_this…_situation,” David’s voice as shrill as he unwraps his arms from Patrick’s neck so that he can pull Patrick’s hands off his sweater.

Interrupting a kiss to move his boyfriend’s hands _away _from his body is very much _not _on-brand for David Rose, but there have got to be limits. Some things _you just can’t do. _David has finally reached his limit.

Patrick doesn’t mind the way David grabs him by the wrists and holds him; if anything, he being a little manhandled turns him on more. “Mm-hmm,” he agrees and leans forward to lick back into David’s mouth, “let’s do something.” Without breaking the kiss, David starts to guidePatrick around the counter and out to a table in the center of the store. When his ass bumps against the table, Patrick stumbles forward slightly, his face falling into David’s cashmere sweater. He quickly shakes off his disorientation and tries to wrap his arms around David’s back, but David again grabs his wrists and holds them out. “Nope,” David asserts, “we need to fix this first.”

“Fix what?” Patrick’s barely-there brows furrow slightly, because _clearly _they are not on the same wavelength if David’s “this” didn’t involve the after-hours blowjob Patrick was hoping for.

“Your hands,” David replies, as if it were the simplest, most obvious thing in the world.

“Um, wha-…whatdo we need to fix about my hands?” Patrick asks, apprehensive, and once again overwhelmed with his frustration about their vastly different sexual backgrounds.

David takes brings both of his big, soft hands to cup one of Patrick’s, flipping it palm up; the corner of his mouth crooks up in a tiny, knowing smile. David presses delicate kisses to Patrick’s furrowed brow, the tip of his nose, his lips. He rests his forehand against Patrick’s, murmurs, “You’re beautiful, you know that?” The grin that blossoms across Patrick’s face makes David’s heart jump.

“But…” the grin starts to rumple into sad puppy face, so David pauses to kiss it away. “Your sandpaper hands are snagging my sweater. And that is,” he lifts a single eyebrow and smirks, “_incorrect_. We need to rectify that.”

“Oh-…okay, David.” Patrick hesitates, his voice much less sure of himself than usual, but melts back into the kiss. “I trust you.”

And then David is smiling so brightly, so big and wide and gleeful, that he breaks the kiss. Patrick’s words wrap themselves around him. _I trust you, _Patrick said_._ _I trust you. _His body responds to the words like they’re a physical embrace—shoulders lifting in and up, elbows pressing against ribs. David squeezes his eyes shut as though it will help him keep this feeling—this gooey, warm honey feeling that’s sprouting from within his chest and starting to grow—contained within himself forever. _Forever _and _Patrick _sounds pretty damn perfect to David, actually.

“Don’t worry; I’ll be gentle,” he teases in his soft voice, the one that makes Patrick’s brain buffer just a little. He turns his attention to the product display behind Patrick. Before Patrick can get a clear look, he’s picked up a couple of items and is walking back to the counter.

“Are you going to pay for that stuff?”

David rolls his eyes in fond exasperation at his button-up Business School Boyfriend and idly waves his free hand. “Later,” he promises, even though they both know he won’t.

“Come with me.”

Patrick follows eagerly.

David sits Patrick down on the desk and stands before him, holding Patrick’s hands, palms-up,close to his face.

“Wait…now what, exactly, are you planning to do to me_?_” With furrowed brow and a studious expression typically reserved for dessert menus, David scrutinizes Patrick’s hands, noticing several dry patches along the outside of his knuckles and cuticles in need of some serious maintenance. Thankfully, though, Patrick’s nails themselves are short and neat.

“For starters, we’re going to moisturize. Hand me that body milk.”

Patrick barely bites back the grin as he reaches for the bottle, but the corners of his eyes crinkle delightedly, and he is barely able to contain the laughter. “Oh yeah…it’s milk,” he pauses to wave the bottle up and down his torso, “for your _body._” For a moment, David tries to school his face into something resembling sternness, but watching Patrick’s shoulders quake in amusement is too much. And, ok, now they’re both giggling.

He traces a fingertip along the lines mapped across Patrick’s palm, pausing to note the changes in texture he finds near Patrick’s fingers.

“What are these from?” he asks as he lets his thumb graze back and forth over the calluses at the base of Patrick’s middle and ring fingers.

Patrick shivers at David’s delicate touch, lets his eyes close. “Mmmm…that feels nice,” he breathes. “Um, those? Baseball, mostly. I think.” He hears the snick of the bottle opening, and then David is rubbing rosemary lavender body milk into his hand, the cool lotion quickly warming under David’s soothing fingers. A little sigh escapes his lips as David massages his palm with his thumbs.

Once satisfied with the moisture level of Patrick’s palm, David turns his focus to Patrick’s fingers. _Oh my god. _David suggestively caresses Patrick’s index finger, his fingers moving up and down, offering an occasional twist of his wrist. He slowly works his way through the rest of that hand, gently tugging and massaging along each finger until Patrick is practically panting at the sensation.

“And these?” David murmurs, running the pad of his index finger along the calluses of Patrick’s fingertips.

His voice cracking with arousal, Patrick replies, “Guitar,” gasping as David pulls his hand up to his face before pressing fluttering kisses to each one. “Oh god, David,” he moans, as David slides Patrick’s index and middle fingers into his mouth, lightly teasing the tip his tongue between them, humming in satisfaction at Patrick’s response.

“David—” Patrick pleads, unsure of just what he’s asking for but certain that it’s something only David can provide, “David,_ please._” He can feel what David is doing to his fingers in his dick, which has started to throb against the zipper of his tight jeans.

“Mmm,” David slides his mouth off of Patrick’s fingers, but keeps his hand pressed up against his face. “I’ve still got to do your other hand, sweetheart,” he mouths against Patrick’s palm.

Patrick whimpers.

When David lets go of his hand, Patrick doesn’t move it; instead, he slides those two fingers along the seam of David’s lips, encouraging that gorgeous mouth to open back up, groaning in satisfaction as David complies. As Patrick fucks his fingers into David’s mouth, David struggles to keep his attention on Patrick’s other hand, massaging the body milk into the palm, threading his fingers between Patrick’s.

“David.” This time it’s a command, not a question or plea, and the gravelly timbre of Patrick’s voice makes David’s stomach leap and his dick twitch. David drops Patrick’s hand and wraps his arms around his waist, tugging Patrick’s shirt free from his belt so that he can feel bare skin. “David, kiss me.”

And then Patrick’s fingers are gone, replaced by his boyfriend’s probing tongue as Patrick crashes his mouth against David’s, threading those perfect, callused fingers through David’s thick, black hair. Their tongues dance together, a game of give-and-take as they move between mouths, teasing and chasing. The kiss gets messier, more aggressive as Patrick takes a playful nip at David’s lower lip, as David sucks on Patrick’s tongue. They’re moaning into each other, arms pulling tighter as they press their bodies closer closer _closer. _Patrick wraps his legs around David and hooks his ankles together, using every possible appendage to bring his lover’s body closer to him, chasing the friction of David’s clothed erection pressing against his own.

“Want you,” Patrick can barely choke out the words as he slides a hand between them and starts to untie the drawstring of David’s skirted pants, “_now_.”

“You got me, gorgeous,” David purrs. Patrick shoves his hand inside David’s briefs and grips his erection, spreads the precome along the tip with his thumb. Patrick smiles as David whines against his mouth. He gives David’s cock a couple of long, steady strokes before pulling his hand out of David’s pants.

This time, David whimpers.

“Babe, gimme some of that body milk,” he demands, and then rubs his hands together to spread it around. “Good boy,” he growls, and then licks back into David’s mouth for another sloppy kiss. 

Patrick tugs David’s pants and briefs down just enough to free his cock, and then wraps a fist around David’s length. He gives David a few long, teasing pulls; then he tightens his grip and brings his other hand to meet the first.

“Fuck into my hands,” Patrick groans, dragging his mouth along the stubble of David’s jaw so that he can nip at David’s ear lobe, before mouthing into his ear, “Fuck me, beautiful.”

Patrick tightens his grip as David snaps his hips in an increasingly furious rhythm. David’s breathing becomes ragged as he hurtles closer toward orgasm. Patrick wraps his legs even tighter around David, the sensation of David fucking his hands creating a delicious friction against his own erection, still trapped in the confines of his tight jeans.

“I’m close,” David grunts, resting his sweat-dampened forehead against Patrick’s. “Gonna come.”

“That’s it, beautiful,” Patrick whispers, “Come for me.” And with that, it’s like he’s released the floodgates. David cries out as he comes, thick white ribbons shooting up over Patrick’s fists, onto his chest, up to his chin, barely missing his nose, causing both men to giggle. David darts his tongue out and licks Patrick’s chin clean, and then growls as Patrick laps the come off his hands.

“Wow,” Patrick uses his soft voice, the voice he used after their first kiss, the voice that David absolutely adores.

“Wow,” David agrees. How is it that his boyfriend can go from come-lapping raunch to a human-sized heart-eyes emoji in less than a second?

“I like it when you fix my hands,” Patrick glances up at David through his barely-there lashes. _Heart-eyes emoji_.

“Your hands are perfect.” David holds his own hands out to Patrick, who takes them both and hops down off the desk. He reaches up to give David a soft, open-mouthed kiss.

“We should probably get back to work.” David smirks as he breaks the kiss, and then pulls his boyfriend toward the curtain.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on tumblr to shout about SC or to get an invite to the Rosebudd Motel on discord. @olivebranchesandredwine on both.


End file.
